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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885547">A Good Fit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperContessa_13/pseuds/CopperContessa_13'>CopperContessa_13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, F/M, Flirting, Suggestive Themes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:47:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,818</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885547</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperContessa_13/pseuds/CopperContessa_13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin helps you understand his affection for human women.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dwalin (Tolkien)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>You In The Story Bro</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Good Fit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For k8 &lt;3 c:</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everyone who was anyone this side of the River Running was gathered inside the gilded halls of Erebor for what was promised to be a Durin’s Day that folks would murmur about for the next century.</p><p>It was nearly one year to the day the Lonely Mountain was reclaimed from Smaug. The lives lost in the battle the year prior were felt deeply by all, not least of which by the former company of Thorin Oakensheid as well as his cousin, Dain (now king) and the dwarf army. However, it was hardly in the nature of dwarfs to grieve long, you had learned. Even funerals tended to become jubilant celebrations of life rather than solemn reflections on the finality of death. </p><p>The parties of Erebor entertained you at first. Your eyes glittered looking at the fancy trappings adorning every surface in sight, not to mention the artisan food and drink laid out. You knew you were a bit spoiled for having grown bored of it all.</p><p>As a close friend and confidant of a noble family that invested in the rebuilding of Dale, you were afforded invitations to parties like these often as a thanks. Maintaining a stately presence in the eyes of well-to-dos, however, was plain and bitterly exhausted work. The clothes you were meant to wear were tight and made you itch in unreachable and impolite places. That would be tolerable if the other folks invited were at least interesting, but you quickly memorized the anecdotes they all told over and over again. Likely because whatever tales lay beyond those stories were likely improper to say among polite company.</p><p>How dreadful. How boring.</p><p>Allowing yourself a break, you excused yourself to a pillar on the far side of the great hall. Your face hurt from smiling and your feet hurt from standing. Leaning lamely against the rear of the column where no one could detect you, you traced your finger against a decorative vine of golden leaves.</p><p>How you wished for this party would offer something more thrilling.</p><p>From a portal behind you came the rumble of a distant noise. The sound was unmistakable: deep, bawdy laughter. Though faint from where you stood, the sound still made a tremor of shock reverberate through your bones. You'd never heard such a laugh like that among these noble folks who usually spoke chivalrously or in dainty tones.</p><p>Curiosity piqued, you gave one backwards glance towards the party and abandoned it all together, wandering into a hallway that had carried the echoing laughs to your ears. Torches lit your way, the sound of your clicking heels bouncing off the cavernous walls.</p><p>At last you found the source of the laughter. Dwarfs, all of them.</p><p>You recognized the group of about nine or ten to all be members of the former Company of Thorin Oakenshield (may he be with Mahal). They were all red faced— likely a symptom of the abundant drink sloshing out of their chalices— and doubled over in laugher at some sort of quip that you hadn't heard. That was, all of them except Dwalin.</p><p>Rugged, stone faced Dwalin. Why was it unsurprising that he alone maintained a steely demeanor about him even with everyone else enraptured by drink and merriment? </p><p>He was cooly leaned against the stoney wall behind him, arms crossed. His usual stoic expression, to be fair, had transformed into a smirk that was threatening to become a smile. It was the most relaxed you had ever seen his posture, you realized, and even then it was not much. The only thing stonier than the mountain was that dwarf.</p><p>You looked at him thoughtfully.</p><p>Though you daren’t mention a word to anyone in your circles, you had always found the dwarf handsome in a way that you found no men rivaled. He looked nothing like the clean, shiny suitors who were sent court you. Their armor had never even seen battle. Dwalin was a war hero, scarred and muscled like a roughly chiseled statue and covered with a tapestry of tattoos. You longed to trace each vein in his forearm with your forefinger and listen to every story about his inkings. You wondered sometimes how much of his body was covered in them.</p><p>You wonder if tracing the tattoos below his tunic would make that expression of his break…</p><p>The dwarfs eventually turned to acknowledge you once they settled down. Dwalin’s deep blue eyes raised to meet yours. You smiled, heart thrumming against your chest. You addressed the whole but kept your eyes on his.</p><p>“What is so funny this evening, sir dwarfs?” you said cooly.</p><p>“Nothing we could tell you, lass,” chucked Balin with a shake of his head. “Not appropriate talk for a lady. That’s why we wandered deep into the mountain to say such things.”</p><p>You rolled your eyes.</p><p>“You mistake me for gentler breed,” you scoffed. “Do you not also grow weary of folks exchanging the same polite stories party after party? You are all adventurers! I am sure I can handle whatever bloody or deadly tale you are recalling.”</p><p>Dwalin exchanged an unreadable look with his brother. The rest remained quiet, some hiding smiles behind goblets of beer.</p><p>“Well?" you asked after a beat of silence. "I’ve seen the skeletons of men and dwarfs and elves in the ruins of Dale, Balin. I can handle it.”</p><p>The elder dwarf shifted uncomfortably, a wry smile on his bearded face.</p><p>“Of course lass, of course. But… it is no story like that.”</p><p>“Then what kind is it like?”</p><p>A ripple of laughter echoed through the group again. Balin fumbled for words, a small blush spreading on his cheeks. Your face dropped slightly, quickly realizing what unladylike this conversation this was about if not violence.</p><p>Nori clasped his old friend’s shoulder and said what Balin lacked the strength to admit.</p><p>“The ache for adventuring, dear, is fierce,” Nori said boldly. “But it rivals nothing to the desire a dwarrow feels for a dwarrowdam.”</p><p>“A nice, round dwarrowdam!” Ori’s voice sang, raising his cup. They all cheered and drank in apparent agreement. Aside from Dwalin, of course, whose empty cup was placed upright on the ground.</p><p>Foolish, assuming dwarfs. You knew well the urge they mentioned. You knew better than maybe you should have. </p><p>Dwalin locked eyes with you again as if he could tell what thoughts were in your head. Your heart skipped a beat, recognizing a playful glint in his eye. It further clouded your mind as you wracked your brain for a response to Nori.</p><p>Deciding to be bold, you stepped toward them and reached down to grab Dwalin’s abandoned goblet. It still had a few stray drops of drink in it. You relished feeling his gaze on you as you bended beneath him.</p><p>“Aye, I also know that desire,” you admitted with a sly smile when you stood upright. “D’you think ladies do not pine the way men do?”</p><p>The party stilled, seemingly enraptured by the epiphany that women also longed for touch. That was aside from the married dwarfs of the group, of course, who tried to make pleasant conversation with each other out of decency.</p><p>Making sure the young dwarfs were watching you and knowing full well what you were doing, you tilted your head back and extended your tongue. Tilting the glass, you let the last drops of Dwalin's drink fall into your mouth. Your face crumpled, displeased with the bitter taste. As a lady, you were expected not to indulge in the fine ales offered at these gatherings. How could you have known they would taste so cruel?</p><p>The mood in the room shifted from seductive to jovial once more as the other dwarfs laughed at your discomfort. All except Dwalin, of course.</p><p>“Go back to the party where you belong, pretty lady,” Nori dismissed with a wave of his hand.</p><p>You felt your indignant nature rise to aid your damaged pride.</p><p>“Oh, what do I want to hear of dwarven women,” you huffed. “Us big women are better anyway.”</p><p>A displeased cry rang out among them. You smiled coyly at the reaction, your mind hatching a plan to make sure this party was more interesting than any other. </p><p>You looked thoughtfully between Dwalin and the cup in your hand until the rest of the company's complaints had quelled. Then, you elaborated your point.</p><p>“None of you would know if I'm wrong or not, would you?”</p><p>One or two started to protest but stilled, exchanging sideways glances with the others.</p><p>“So smooth is skin of human women," you teased. "I bet it feels even more delicate under rough hands. Particularly those used to the wooden handles of axes and the rocky surfaces of mines, hm?” </p><p>“What are you going on about?” Nori asked with a furrowed brow. You ignored him, casting a heated look towards Dwalin.</p><p>“Big women have eyes that gleam like fine jewels when they look up at you and skin that glows golden in firelight. The firelight also deepens and highlights the many valleys and peaks that make a woman. And that is nothing to say of the flame that burns inside of her. It’s a hungry, needy thing that demands to be kindled. By big, strong…. hands…”</p><p>You drawled off the last part.</p><p>Balin was shaking his head, eyes closed tight and hands over his ears. Nori’s mouth dumbly hung open. Dwalin quirked an eyebrow. A satisfied smile slipped on your lips.</p><p>The silence was broken by Dwalin who cleared his throat. Standing up straight, he pat Nori's shoulder.</p><p>“Alright, you lot. You’ve heard enough. Time to go back to the party,” Dwalin said.</p><p>“But she—“ Nori started.</p><p>“I said go back to the party,” he growled.</p><p>Eventually they hurried away, leaving only you and Dwalin standing opposite each other in the torchlit hallway. He was quiet at first and seemed to study you with his eyes before taking a few steps forward. Though he barely reached the height of your breasts, you still wouldn’t have found his presence any more commanding if he was as tall as an oak.</p><p>“Not proper to make a display of yourself like that,” he chided. A smirk on his lips let you know he was only teasing. You gave girlish giggle in response, letting your feet slip slightly out from under you so that you matched his height.</p><p>He tentatively brushed his fingers against your cheek. You leaned into his touch. He let out a low chuckle, apparently amused with your forwardness.</p><p>Dwalin leaned beside your ear.</p><p>“I like big women,” he said huskily. “They fit it better.”</p><p>Your breath caught, understanding the implication of what “it” was.</p><p>“Will you show me, sir dwarf?” you asked quietly.</p><p>He whisked you away to his bedchamber without another word. Dwalin was an expressive lover, one you returned to many times after.</p><p>It did fit well indeed.</p>
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